By now, I’m happy to have seen the Fab Faux in a number of different settings, from the first time at the Count Basie Theatre in Red Bank, NJ (where their versions of “Oh! Darling” and “Yes It Is” just about made mine and my father’s lives, respectively, complete), to a similar if larger and more famous venue in Carnegie Hall for a contribution to a show honoring The Who, to a high school auditorium on Long Island, to Radio City Music Hall, to this club date at Terminal 5 in New York City. I don’t see every show of theirs, but I applaud their efforts and achievements and might be most impressed by the breadth of their talent, the scope of their vision. The variety of venues is parallel to the variety of their shows; I’ve seen and heard some songs several times but others just once or not yet. Sometimes it’s a smattering, sometimes it’s focused: I was particularly excited to see what they would do in their full rendition of The White Album (yeah, yeah, The Beatles).
Thinking back to the show, I’m struck by just how many people were onstage. With most of the early Beatles songs, four people is enough, but this was not that; strings and horns, guys picking up guitars and percussion parts, a beautiful harpist/background singer/”Birthday” joiner-inner, the main five guys swapping out basses and guitars and keyboards and not just for show, either. It wasn’t a gimmick and it wasn’t a family affair: These choices were made to support the music, and I support that.
L-R: Jim Boggia, Jack Petruzzelli, Rich Pagano (drums), Frank Agnello, Denny Laine, Will Lee (white suit), not sure, and Jimmy Vivino
The lone exception to this enough-is-enough instrumentation was the Wingsman himself, Denny Laine. Toward the end of the first CD of songs, bassist/frontman Will Lee hinted that there would be a special guest in the second half. I always hold out hope that Paul McCartney will drop in, but it was not meant to be. But no matter: It was a real treat to see Moody Bluesman Denny Laine join in on guitar for “Birthday” and especially “Yer Blues,” which was expectedly lengthened to accommodate a solo for each guitarist, including Mr. Laine. The song is often one of the most memorable ones, and Saturday’s version was no exception. After the album proper had been played, Denny Laine came back out to play “Go Now,” pictured above. The band also played “Revolution” and “Hey Jude” as part of the three-song encore. Their earlier, album version of “Revolution 1″ whetted my thirst for the faster, rougher version and they brought it afterwards.
Probably the best compliment I can give to the band or the music is that not a single performed song was terrible. That’s no mean feat on an album with 30 songs, some admittedly much weaker than others. The Faux made something out of each recording, and it was more than just hearing it live that made it good. The violin that cuts through the plodding “Don’t Pass Me By” was welcomely magnified in the live version, and not just because I was standing on that side of the house. The horn section gave “Savoy Truffle” hell, and even “Long Long Long” was well rethought, played at an audible volume. The horns on “Martha My Dear” and “Honey Pie” nicely honored the jazz band tradition that McCartney was addressing in the first place.
The good and great songs were made excellent, though. “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey” was probably the song I wanted to hear most. After a calm version of “Mother Nature’s Son,” we were told, “Let’s rock,” and the band went into it. I was enamored, and the whole crowd was, too. Sadly, three scumfuck nitwits took me out of the moment by wanting to get past me to more closely approach the stage. I didn’t strangle them but could have; such is the power of music. That song was also lengthened by guitar solos and it was shown that the volume of material on the album diluted the greatness of certain lesser known tracks, I’m sure of it. “Helter Skelter,” soon thereafter, might have made the night. The angry vocals were nailed and the band, energetic but also often thoughtful in their approach, really let fly. Simple as that.
I didn’t know what the band would do for “Revolution 9.” Would they just play the recording of the whole song, like Queen would in concert for the middle part of “Bohemian Rhapsody”? Would they skip it, a move we would all understand? In a courageous, inventive proceeding, the band went for it. Portions were prerecorded, summoned through the speakers by the band members on synthesizers. But all in all, it did seem like an art piece. The houselights went up at the beginning, we were silent as requested. The band members seemed to have maps of the arrangement, not to say a definitive, hyperaccurate score. It was loose and difficult, but thoroughly interesting. Guys crinkled things and dropped other things for sound effects, the drummer played bass, they chanted and spoke. Before the song, the band joked with the audience that we all collectively skip over the song on most listens, but they gave it a good shot.
The Fab Faux continue to do their best to bring the Beatles’ music back to life, especially the songs that are often heard but seldom performed. For as long as they do, I’ll be happier for it. I’m often very critical, hypercritical, of other people “messing with things that I love,” finding fault even where there’s little fault to be found. For many reasons, it’s very difficult to criticize this band. One of those reasons: It’s on nights like the one of this concert that make me realize other people love this stuff too, possibly even more than I do. And more importantly: That that’s okay, because it’s really not a competition, because it’s something we share, and the resulting joyfulness is not halved but doubled.